Jubilee Journal: Week 43 7/13/2016 SCOOPED

Written on July 13, 2016.

Some days in a world gone wild with daunting debates, unending unnaming and hearts too torn to be tame I become desperate for dirt and melancholy for moonlight. And to gravitate to a place where I can be grounded by glory.

Last night brought such a crave for creation. Needled by news and hounded by hate alongside mankind, I was merely moved to return to what renders and reals me. To surrender to my supply. To look up from so far down and see the stellar story strewn sweet and strong across a swelling, singing sky.

My person and I found ourselves bruised and barefoot, hand and Heaven upon a promise in portion, beautifully broken for fulness and faithful. A barn one day it’s boast will be, but this night it was simply tread and trod. Resting from the enormous receiving and tender giving of each deepened day.

I bent low to gather and glean a quaint little quantity, just enough to fill my hands. Inhaling, exhaling again and again, taking in the fragrance of earth upturned to be perfectly placed. Heart hammering, eyes erupting, my hands holding tight to more than clay and silt. Stretching, grasping to hold fast to the reality of we. We are each and every one of us scooped.

Dust and dirt, soil and sand until the hands of God scooped and the palms of passion sculpted. Until the breath of Heaven adds weightiness and words. “In my image” or “my image within.” Until dignity is delivered enclosed in glory. A seed to sprout. A harvest that hovers.

We are all, everyone of us, the color of soil. Earthsuited, literally no matter where we were baked and born. Soil and sand with a bit of bone and a mighty wind. Tweaked and turned by the catch of His breath and beat of His heart as He sighs in wonder, at us.

Woven together with colossal choice to not be torn apart. To not be devastated by the different, but bound by the beginning. We were fashioned by forever, forging our way to find each other. Every each other. ALL.

JOURNAL JUBILEE:
Let the Spirit remind you of a time you were scooped by Pappa and formed into something you didn’t see coming. Now let Him show the form He has for someone near or far, and breath upon it with truth. For every seed needs light.